


Golden Dawn, Midnight Sun

by sagittarian (noellian)



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: "Al no" "AL YES", "Van no" "VAN YES", "stella no" "STELLA YES", F/M, I Blame Tumblr, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, Please Don't Hate Me, Post-Canon, Why Did I Write This?, cant stop wont stop, headcanons galore for the future elric children, im an evil bastard, longest fic ive ever written, one of them is a certain golden-eyed Amestrian alkahestry student, protag has weaknesses just like everybody else, soul alchemy pt 2
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-02-22 22:21:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13176411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noellian/pseuds/sagittarian
Summary: It's been eight years since the Promised Day, and since then, Ed and Winry have married and moved from the Resembool countryside to start again with their two children and Winry's assistant, Stella. A hardworking, half-Creta girl from Pendleton, Stella originally joined Rockbell Automail as an administrative assistant, but quickly became part of the family when she began a relationship with Alphonse.In the years since she befriended the Elrics, she's pushed her feelings for Al aside, believing May Chang to be his soulmate. She's fallen out of contact with Al in the last two years, but after Ed and Winry are kidnapped by an anti-alchemy group known as the Order of the Midnight Sun, she is reunited with Al.While recovering from the battle to rescue Ed and Winry, May arrives, and Stella seeks to make amends with her and Al for the chaos she caused by suddenly ending her relationship with Al years ago. Shocking news from May helps her to reconcile with Al, giving her the strength she needs to perform her most challenging act yet:Forgiving herself.(Rated M for violence, graphic language, and some adult themes.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So, I'm still working on my other fic, but I got really inspired to do this one, too! 
> 
> Updates will probably be weekly or bi-weekly. I do have a small backlog of stuff written, but I'll be sure to put in the notes if I have to go on hiatus because of school or health reasons.

“Oh man,” I gripe, heading out into the kitchen after a terrible night’s sleep, “my neck is killing me. I’ve never woken up this sore.” Pulling a heating pad from the cabinet, I pop it in the microwave for a minute to try and relieve some of the pain and tension.

A clatter draws my attention to the staircase leading up to the apartment above mine, and before I can take a step in that direction, two blondes appear, clothes dirty, but otherwise unharmed.

“Hey! We’re alive,” one exclaims, ponytail swinging as he looks from his wife to me.

“Oh! Ed, and Winry,” I reply, a smile on my face. “I’m glad you’re both okay.”

“Thanks to you, we are,” Ed beams, grabbing my shoulders and pulling me into a hug.

My brows furrow as he releases me, only for Winry to grab hold and give me a good snuggle. Her long hair brushes against my face as I say, “Wait. Did I actually…”

“It was incredible,” she says with a sigh, patting the side of my face. “But we’re just glad you’re alive, too.”

My jaw slack, I deadpan, “What.”

Ed’s hand rests on my shoulder as Winry steps back. “You took some serious damage in that fight. Win was just as scared as I was,” he says, voice soft.

My stomach turns, and I retort, “But guys, I don’t remember any—”

Vision fading, I recall the touch of a blade against the back of my neck, embedded deeper than what most would consider too much to come back from.

A heavy shudder racks my body, and I have to bite back the urge to vomit.

“Oh.”

Concern obvious on her face, Winry leans in and says, “But you’re okay now. Right?”

Blinking hard to try and clear the flashback from my mind, I clear my throat. “Yeah. Uh.” My train of thought is broken as a hand grips my shoulder, lightly tugging me back as I exclaim, “What?”

Another hand appears, twisting me around as my hair smacks me in the face. Brushing the hair from my eyes, I start to say something, but my words catch in my throat as a mostly familiar face just about crashes into mine, blonde fuzz tickling my face. Seconds later, his arms wrap around me, and my face is pressed against his shoulder, the scent of lavender strong on his sweater.

I try and hold the giggle in; his lips tasted like apple pie. What I can’t hold in is the astonished mutter of, “…Beard?”

With a playful gasp, Al lets go of me just enough to lean his forehead against mine. Enormous golden eyes look into mine as a smirk tugs at the corners of his bushed lips, and he sighs, “Yes, beard. Oh my God. You’re alive.”

Tilting my head so my nose touches his, I give in for the moment. “Yeah,” I answer. “That’s what everyone’s been telling me so far.”

He rubs my cheeks with his thumbs, and I rest my hands on his waist to steady myself. “Oh, look,” I tease, squeezing his sides with a light touch. “Somebody sure is a fan of Winry’s pie.”

“Like you don’t get one all to yourself!” he teases back, kissing the tip of my nose.

“Gaah,” I exclaim, and he steps back with a flush on his face. My eyes narrow, and I wiggle my eyebrows at him, saying, “You and I are going to have a nice conversation about boundaries later, mister.”

“Later,” Ed insists, giving me a side hug. “Now, we celebrate the fact that you saved our lives.”

“I just hope that was the last time we’ll be hearing from them,” I say, trying to forget about all the other times they’d gone after the Elrics.

With a halfhearted chuckle, Ed mutters, “After what you did to them, I’d be surprised if they can still move.”

A grimace grows on my face, and I look to Winry for clarification. She gives me none, instead taking my hand and dragging me over to the staircase to their apartment. “Forget about that; let’s go get you cleaned up. You look even worse than we do.”

I look down at my clothes, and a small gasp escapes my lips. I have no idea how I didn’t notice the massive tears and stains and—“Win, is that what I think it is?”

“Try not to think about it,” she suggests. “Also, do you remember your blood type? I think you might need a transfusion.”

“Ha,” I quip, but a few steps up the stairs later, I’m feeling it.

 

\----

 

Depositing me in a steaming bathtub full of bubbles, Winry makes sure the bandage wrapped around the back of my neck is secure. She protects it from the water with the rolled-up towel she tucks behind my head for support.

“Now, just let me do all the work,” she says, picking up a loofah and gently grasping my wrist. “You relax, okay?”

“Mhm,” I mumble, then add, “Thanks, Win.”

She smiles, and starts to gently scrub my arm with the loofah, dipping it into the water periodically to wash off the dirt, dead skin, and blood that’s surely caked on.

When she finishes with my arms, she has me sit forward, and is careful to go around the bandage. “We’ll wait to wash your hair until after I drain the tub.”

“You can scrub a little harder,” I tell her. “I can barely feel the pressure.”

“Hhh,” she squeaks, “we might need to revisit that injury after this.”

“You said it had closed to being just a surface wound,” I remind her. “And I could feel pressure before I got in the tub.”

“Then it might just be the hot water that numbed you,” she says. “Your skin is pretty flushed.”

“Try not to think about it,” I add. “That’s not the worst injury someone in this house has received and come back from.”

“Don’t remind me,” she says as she rolls her eyes. “I almost killed Ed when he told me about that accident. But you healed while unconscious.”

“Impressive,” I hear, and I tense under Winry’s touch.

“I asked May to come and take a look at you,” she says softly. “Ed suggested it, after how close you seemed to not making it.”

“Believe me, if it wasn’t for how severe a beating you took in that fight, I wouldn’t be here,” May Chang says, taking a seat next to the tub. “I just want to make sure things are working the way they should, and that your chi is flowing properly.”

My thoughts turn to the kiss Al caught me off guard with, and if my face wasn’t already red from the steam, it definitely is now. Talking about my complicated friendship with May Chang, or of us being perpetual exes of a certain budding alkahestry student is not a good idea right now. What I need to focus on is her professional qualifications, which is what brought Ed and Winry to ask her to check up on me.

“I know,” I admit. “And I’ve meant to sit down and talk with you about… other things. But I’m inclined to just focus about recovering right now.” With a heavy sigh, I look her in the eye, her deep black gaze wrinkling with concern. “Thank you for coming. It does mean a lot to me.”

The wrinkles around her eyes shift into those of a smile, and she tucks a stray hair into the mass of braided buns atop her head. “I’m glad to be of service as a certified alkahestry practitioner. Just call me nurse Chang.”

Despite everything, I laugh. She glows with kindness, and it’s so infectious. That, along with her dedication to duty first and everything else second, reminds me she always did want what was best for me. I never faulted her for that, or for being the object of his affection.

She pulls out a case of acupuncture needles, and I shudder at the thought of her sticking them in me. “Don’t look,” she chastises me lightly, “and besides, I’m not going to use more than five.”

“I know,” I say, as Winry switches places with her to give her better access to my neck and spine. “I just can’t believe you invented that damn technique. I know it’s more effective and precise to have the affected area targeted using the needles, but _God_ do I hate the thought of those going into my skin.”

She peels the bandage off the back of my neck, taking a couple of my hairs with it. “I have seen improved results with patients suffering from more complicated conditions,” she says. “Considering you took major damage to your spinal cord, I think this is a case for the needles.”

“Don’t even bother warning me when they’re going in,” I say. “Just tell me to stop moving.”

“Okay,” she says, adjusting the tilt of my head. “My goodness, you healed it fast. I wouldn’t have believed it unless Edward showed me the photos.”

“There were photos?!” I exclaim, and she touches my shoulders to remind me to stay calm.

“Alphonse was able to take a few using that new camera he bought for documenting his research,” she answers. “They weren’t very close up, but you could clearly see the blade—” She cuts herself off, then starts again, “Now, don’t talk. I need to read your chi flow before I do anything.”

I feel a light tingle in the back of my neck, and static crackles across my skin.

“Wow,” Winry gasps, “that’s a little scary. Does it get hot on the surface?”

“No,” May answers. “It just looks that way because the process produces some electricity, which stimulates her nerves and brings the blood rushing to the target area.”

I stay as still as I can, and a few seconds later, she says, “Okay, they’re out. Roll your head slowly for me.”

Letting the weight of my head rest in her hands, I roll my head first to the right, then to the left, completing two full rotations in each direction. Then, she runs her fingers down my spine, from the base of my skull to the tip of my tailbone.

“Looks like I’ve done what I can for now,” she says. “I’ll be going, then.”

“Wait,” I blurt out, unsure of where I was going with this.

“Stella,” Winry says, just loud enough for me to hear.

“May,” I continue, “I want to make sure that you know one thing.”

She nods, kneeling down to meet me at eye level.

“You’re the most selfless person I’ve ever met, and I… I’m just sorry we couldn’t have been better friends.” Sniffling, I rest my hands on the rim of the tub, and she places her hands over mine.

“Stella,” she says, “there’s something you should know.”

Before she can continue, the bathroom door slams open, and a certain little blondie falls inside, squealing in shock, her pigtails flying.

“Sara Patricia Elric!” her mother exclaims. “What are you doing, sneaking into mommy and daddy’s bathroom?”

“Uncle Al said Aunt Stella got hurt,” the precocious three-year-old says, “and I wanted to give her a kiss to make it better.”

“Oh my God,” May breathes, “that’s the most adorable thing I’ve ever heard!”

Sara comes over to me and beckons me closer, so I lean my head forward and offer her my cheek. She presses a big kiss to my face, and lets out a loud “muah!”

“Thank you, princess,” I say, and she scampers off with a wave.

“You’re welcome, Auntie! Bye!”

“Where are you going?” her mother calls after her, “Sara, Sara!”

With a giggle, May says, “Go. I’ll help her finish.”

Winry gives me a dubious look, but I just nod. Somewhat satisfied, she heads off to catch her daughter, closing the bathroom door behind her.

Once she leaves, May lets out an enormous sigh, to my surprise.

“What was that for?” I ask, and she picks up the bottle of shampoo, then puts it down once she realizes my hair isn’t even damp.

“I never know what to say around little kids,” she confesses, “and Sara’s just so full of energy and sunshine, it makes me feel bland by comparison.”

Reeling back, eyes wide, I tell her, “That’s ridiculous. May, you’re great with kids! I’ve seen you treat the kids since they were babies, and you never struggled with them.”

“That’s because I was treating them,” she replies, “and my mind was mostly focused on my work. I didn’t have to worry about knowing what to say, because my job came first and foremost. But when it comes to just playing with them, I’m at a loss.”

“Funny, seeing as you’re the closest to childhood out of all of us.”

“Quit telling me I’m young!” she laughs, dumping a cup of clean water over my head. “As nineteenth princess of Xing, I had to grow up faster than all of you combined!”

I just blow a raspberry at her, which just makes her laugh even harder, which gets me laughing, too.

After a few minutes, we both catch our breath, and she lets some of the water out to try and replace it with fresh, hot water. I gather an armful of bubbles and hold it in front of me. To May, I say, “I know you’re a medical professional, but I’d like to at least attempt to preserve a modicum of dignity.”

“Didn’t you say at one point that the only people in this house who hadn’t seen you topless were Edward and Van?”

“I’d like to add you to that list!”

A knock on the door interrupts our banter, and half of that list calls out, “Are you ladies alright in there?”

“Fine, Ed,” I respond, “just fine.”

“Edward,” May adds, “can you ask Winry where she laid out Stella’s change of clothes?”

The doorknob turns, and I shriek, “You stay out there, Edward Elric! I’m still in the bathtub!”

“Relax, Stel,” he says, opening the door just wide enough to hold out a lump of cloth. “This is what Winry had laid out for you. Should be everything.”

May takes the package from him, and he promptly shuts the door.

“Try not to kill each other,” he advises, and then his footsteps fade as he walks away.

May and I exchange pained looks, and then shake our heads with mirth.

“He hasn’t changed,” she reminisces, dumping another cup of clean water over my head, but with more care this time.

“Tell me about it,” I agree, and I rest my arms over the far side of the tub while she works the shampoo into my hair, then rinses it without getting it in my eyes.

Eventually, she helps me to get out of the tub, my body scrubbed pink like a newborn’s, and she helps me towel myself dry before helping me dress.

Winry grabbed a nice, soft long-sleeve shirt and drawstring pants in a dark plum color for me. It feels soothing against my skin after the scrubbing she put me through.

“Hold on,” May says when I reach for the doorknob. “Let me do something with your hair.”

Pointing at my unwieldy bun, I say, “I would really appreciate that, actually. You’ve seen what I usually default to.”

She pats the back of the chair Winry brought in, and I sit in it, my back facing her. She lets my hair down, then grabs a wide-toothed comb I vaguely recall Ed having carved not long after picking up the woodworking hobby post-Promised Day. With care, she works out the bigger knots, then switches to a smaller-tooth comb for the finer knots.

Once my hair has been suitably detangled, she divides it into two sections, letting one half of my hair lay over my shoulder. After another pass of the comb, she starts plaiting my hair with deft fingers, and I find myself growing drowsy.

She finishes the first braid, tying it off with a black ribbon. With a few passes of the comb, she starts braiding the other side.

A few minutes into the second braid, May draws my attention by clearing her throat.

“Stella,” she says, “when you broke it off with him, he tried dating other people. But no matter what he did, he was never happy the same way he was when he was with you.”

I almost choke on my next breath. “Wh-what?”

She nods. “He knew I’d fancied him ever since I’d worked with him to stop Father’s plans on the Promised Day, so he even tried to make something work out with me. But his heart was never really in it. When I asked him what was wrong, he told me it just wasn’t the same being with someone other than you.

“You helped him more than you realized. He said you grounded him, and helped him remember his humanity whenever he’d start to lose himself.” She rubs at her nose, and continues, “When you decided to leave him, he was devastated. He couldn’t understand why you did it.”

My heart aches, and it comes back to me like it was only yesterday. I told him I couldn’t be with him any longer, and he took it hard: it came completely out of the blue, and nothing I said would convince him that I was doing it for him. I didn’t tell him the real reason why I was leaving, because he never would have believed me, would have begged me to stay.

I knew that May was the only girl for him. I’d seen the family photo, and I just _knew._

A sad smile appears on her face. “I can tell you don’t believe me. Do you remember a letter he sent late, around a year ago?”

“If you’re talking about the letter that almost didn’t come, I remember it,” I answer, still dubious.

“He had been working himself into a worried frenzy for weeks. His concentration was diminishing, his research was suffering, and he was thinking about taking a break for a while. He mulled over it for a few days, trying to decide if he should write home saying he’d be back earlier than anticipated, or stick it out for the few months left until he was scheduled to return to Amestris.

“He came to me one night in tears, Stella. Said he couldn’t go on with his work without knowing why you left him.”

I let my head hang as I mull over the thought. He almost quit what he loved, studying his father’s techniques of alchemy, because my breaking up with him destroyed him.

Yet I left him because I thought she was the only girl for him.

“I told him to take a short vacation in the Xing countryside with me. While we were traveling, he stumbled across a new technique that had been developed in a little town we passed through, and he was inspired to continue on. He forced himself to put thoughts of you aside until you contacted him.

“You’re free to ask him to confirm any of this. He was going to tell you it all, anyways.”

Speechless, I can only nod my head, twirling the end of one braid between my fingertips.

After a few seconds, the door opens, and I hear a soft voice ask, “Are you all done in here?”

 _Shit_.

“Yes,” May answers. “I was just going to help Stella join everyone out in the kitchen. I’m sure she’s dying to eat something right about now.”

Coming into view, Al smiles at May, and tells her, “I can handle it from here. Seems like everyone but me has had the chance to help her so far.”

“Be my guest,” May replies, and she slips past him, giving me a smile and a curt nod on her way out.

Taking a seat across from me, he rests one elbow on his knee, chin in hand. He takes a few moments to sit there, breathing deeply, and then straightens, resting a hand on my knee. “How are you feeling, Stella?”

Rubbing a hand over my stomach, I say, “I can’t decide if I’m hungry, or about to lose my lunch.”

With a smirk, he replies, “That’s not the first time I heard that today.”

I raise my eyebrows and give him a doubtful look, so he redirects.

Rubbing both hands along his face and neck, he asks, “So, what do you really think about the beard? I thought it looked pretty good. Reminded me of Dad’s.”

“Not quite as impressive as Mr. Ho’s,” I tease, leaning forward to touch the short fuzz he’s sporting. “But then again, he did also have the majestic ponytail to go with it.”

Rolling his eyes, he leans into my touch, amusement tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Never again will I let my hair get that long. Just can’t do it.”

“I know,” I say, my fingers gently exploring his face, brushing through his beard and across his lips. He takes my hand in his, and presses a kiss to my knuckles before helping me to my feet.

I’m a little shaky when I stand, so he wraps his arm around my waist, lightly pinning me to his chest until I can get my bearings. When I struggle to find stability, my legs wanting to give out from under me, he gets a flirtatious look in his eyes, and tucks his free arm under my knees, hoisting me up and into his arms.

“Al!” I shriek, wrapping my arms around his neck to hold on for dear life. “There are easier ways to go about this!”

“I know,” he beams, and carries me out of the bathroom, laughing while I squeal with embarrassment.

“Showoff!” I declare him as he brings me out into the kitchen, where the rest of the family sit and wait for my arrival. Ed’s suppressing a blush while Winry hides a knowing smirk; I’m glad May is too busy trying to occupy the attention of the children to notice our little show, but little Van, Ed’s firstborn, sees us and makes finger guns at his favorite uncle.

As he sets me down in a chair at the table, his lips brush against my ear, and he murmurs, “You always loved being carried, and you still do.”

I roll my eyes in submission; can’t deny that one bit.

“But only because it shows how strong you are.”

_A girl can try._

“Sure,” he says, taking the seat next to me. May and the kids join us at the table while Ed and Winry lay out the food.

My stomach grumbles, and Al chuckles as he smooths a napkin over his lap. I shoot him a look, eyes narrowed, and graciously accept the offered bowl of stew.

“It smells amazing,” I say, and Ed nods in agreement.

“Almost smells better than Granny’s,” Al adds, “and that was our favorite, growing up.”

“That’s why,” Winry says, taking her seat, “I made sure to get Granny’s recipe before we moved.”

We all seem to raise our spoons in unison, even the kids, and after we thank Winry for the meal, everyone digs in with gusto.


	2. Things I Shouldn't Have Said

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> angsty shit nobody but me probably cares about, particularly between Stel and Al
> 
> dont like dont read :P

The kids help their dad take care of the dirty dishes while Winry goes to start laundry with May’s help. I insist on doing something, even if it’s just drying the dishes after they’re washed, but Edward won’t have any of it.

“I want you to rest,” he commands, “and you have the choice of the guest room or the couch.”

With a sigh, I give in, and start shuffling off in the direction of the spare bedroom.

“Atta girl,” he says, only to be distracted when five-year-old Van spills a glass of water on himself.

“Oh, kids,” he mutters, ushering his son off into the bathroom to change and dry off.

I turn down the hallway to the spare bedroom, leaning against the door before turning the knob. Before I walk in, I pause to rub the back of my neck, a dull ache starting to form.

Maybe laying down for a little while after I’ve digested would do me some good.

I step inside, shutting the door behind me, and realize I should’ve turned the light on first. It’s pretty dark save for the little bit of light coming in through the curtains, so I take care in working my way across the room to the bed, my knee brushing against the corner. I follow the side of the bed to the nightstand and turn on the light, brightening the little green room instantly.

Sinking onto the bed, I sit up against the wall, my legs crossed over the comforter. I didn’t realize how tired my body was before, but now I can’t ignore the exhaustion. Whatever happened in that fight took a hell of a toll on me for sure.

My mind flashes back to the image of the blade in my neck, and I try and shake my head to clear the thought. I don’t need to make myself throw up thinking about it.

Forget the fact I’m sure to have nightmares tonight; those will be torture enough without me devoting my waking time to it, too.

I pick up a book from the nightstand. It’s about some new engineering methods for automail. Pretty heavy reading, but it’s better than daydreaming about nightmares. I flip through it, trying to find the pages that have illustrations on them.

I must’ve dozed off, because some time later, I hear a light knock on the door and come to, the book laying askew on the bed. “Iawake,” I exclaim in a jumble, startled by the sudden noise.

The door opens, and Al pokes his head inside. “Sorry,” he says, his voice soft, “didn’t mean to wake you.”

Rubbing at my eyes, I reply, “No, no, come in. I must’ve dozed off. It’s no bother though.” He motions to the end of the bed, and I nod, tucking my legs under me. “Yeah, go ahead.”

“Thanks,” he says, and takes a seat on the far end, resting his elbows on his knees. He rubs his hands together, head hanging, and I wait for him to say something first.

While I wait, I decide to let the braids out, so I remove the ribbons and comb out the braids with my fingertips, making short work of them. He watches me, his eyes hiding something.

Once I’ve finished, he turns to face me, and loosens his tie to unbutton the top button of his shirt. Clearing his throat, he looks from the floor to me, and there’s a blank look on his face for just a second before he begins.

“Stella, I… I’m not sure how to say this,” he confesses. “I’ve been thinking about it for a long time, since the last time I saw you.

“I know the last time we spoke, it was… not on the best terms. I’ve given up on trying to rationalize what made you decide to end our relationship. Your choice is your choice, whatever the reasoning, and I’m going to respect that. I’ve made my peace with what happened, and I wanted to ask you something.” He runs his hand through his beard, and with a deep breath, looks me straight in the eye.

“Would you grant me your blessing before I ask May to marry me?”

My mouth goes completely dry, and I have to take a moment to compose myself before babbling, “I—yeah, it’s… you didn’t have to ask—s-sure.” My heart pounds as I say the words, and I have to fight back tears; my heart is breaking, but if she makes him happy, just like I figured all along, then they should be together.

“You don’t sound too sure about that.”

“I am,” I blurt out, but then more calmly say, “I just want you to be happy, Alphonse. I caused you too much misery in the last eight years. I want to make up for that.”

His gaze falls, and he grows silent. His lack of response makes the adrenaline rushing through my veins that much more numbing, and I have to turn away to wipe the tears from the corners of my eyes.

We sit in silence for what feels like forever, before he finally speaks.

“I see.”

Sniffling, I still can’t look at him, so I get off the bed on the opposite side and walk around to reach the door. As I reach for the knob, he exclaims, “Stella, wait—I’m not going to ask her—I love you!”

A chill runs down my spine, paralyzing me and rooting me to the floor. I swallow hard, and somehow manage to get out, “You what?”

I hear him come to his feet and take a step closer to me, but my eyes are fixed on the door. His voice cracks as he explains, “Stella, I—I wanted to see what you would say. I know I shouldn’t have asked, Winry told me it would just make you upset—but I just didn’t know how else to say it!”

“Say _what?_ ” I cry, tears starting to flow. I spin on my heel to face him, fists balled at my sides.

“I can’t get over you!” he bawls. “I made myself sick trying to figure out why you left, and I put those feelings to rest for a while, but after seeing you nearly killed trying to save my brother—if you died, it would kill me—”

“Liar!” I sob, even though I don’t mean it. He would never be this broken up—never claim to be that affected by me if he didn’t mean it.

“I’m not lying!” He wipes at his eyes, runs his hands through his hair, wears his heart on his sleeve. “If there’s one thing I got to know very well when I was trapped in that hollow shell of a body, it was my feelings! Feelings of loneliness, emptiness, feeling like nobody treated me like a regular person—feeling _inhuman_. Even when I got my body back, I didn’t know what it meant to really be human. _You were the one who helped me feel like a person again._

“I love you, Stella, and I never stopped.” He pulls a folded piece of paper from his breast pocket, unfolds it, holds it out to me.

It’s the first photo we ever took together. He’s in the orange sweater Pinako knitted for him for his eighteenth birthday, I’m in the navy-blue sweater Winry gifted me the first winter I worked for her at Rockbell Automail. We’ve got our arms around each other, and his head is leaning against mine, broad smiles on both of our faces.

“Do you remember this, Stella?” he asks, voice cracking.

I do. It was taken just before he asked me to be his girlfriend.

My vision is blurred by the tears, and I take a step back, my back slamming against the door. I use the end of my sleeve to wipe my eyes, and struggling to compose myself, I say, “Yes, I remember when that photo was taken. Why?”

“Because it was the first time I realized I’d fallen completely and utterly in love with you, and I knew that you were the most magical thing to happen in my life.”

The tears stop, and my face feels numb. My hearing feels like I’m underwater, and I hear myself say, “I thought alchemists didn’t believe in magic.”

“Fine, I’ll say it scientifically, then.” He takes another few steps towards me, and gently lifts my chin so I’m looking at him. His eyes are glistening with unshed tears, lip quivering once more, as he says, “I’d never believed I could touch the stars until I held you in my arms.”

The breath hitches in my chest, and I can hardly speak. Somehow, I do, and I want to kick myself as soon as the words leave my mouth.

“Stars were meant to stay in the sky, and you were meant to be with May.”

The effect is immediate; he goes completely slack-jawed, takes a half-step of recoil, and almost drops the photo. Shuddering, he gasps, “Is that… is that what you really believe?”

Once the words are out, they’re out in a waterfall of repressed emotions, and I lose control, crying, “May’s known you for, like, twice as long as I have, and she’s been in love with you longer than you’ve even known me, and you had a thing for her, I saw the photo, she wouldn’t have been in it if she wasn’t something special to you, because—because you don’t just put a friend in your family photo unless they mean something—and, and,” I pause to take in an enormous lungful of air, launching back into my train wreck with a sob. “And you deserve better than me, you deserve her, because she’s got more in common with you than I ever will—she’s got a brilliant career ahead of her, and beautiful—a princess! She’s a princess, for God’s sakes, an honest to God princess, and I’ve done nothing but be a nuisance and hurt you and—”

“ _Stop_ ,” he sobs, and I’m stilled by how raw his voice is. “Just… stop. I’ve heard enough.”

He staggers back to the bed, falls onto it, and rolls over, arms splayed across the surface, hands hanging off the edges. He takes big breaths, deep breaths, to try and stabilize himself. I let my body weight rest against the door, using it to hold myself up.

“I can’t believe you just said that,” he says, his voice suddenly even. “I cannot imagine what in the world would compel you to say that.”

“…Fear,” I hear myself say.

“Fear?” he echoes.

“Fear that you loving me is throwing your future away.”

“Neither of us knows what the future holds. You can’t say that. You can’t just push me away because you’re scared, Stella.”

“So what you’re saying is,” I pause to choke down a sob, “if I really loved you, I wouldn’t have said any of those things.”

He’s quiet, but then says, “No, Stella. What I’m saying is, you said that because you love me, but you don’t want to do something to hurt me. And you know saying that will hurt most of all.”

He lays an arm over his eyes, and lets out a defeated sigh.

I watch him, and seconds stretch out into minutes of silence. Once the tears have been long gone, I gather what little strength I have to walk over to him, stand beside him and look down into his face, my cheeks hot with shame.

“Alphonse.”

He licks his lips, and sighs, “I was stupid to bring this up.”

“Alphonse,” I repeat.

He waves his free hand, motioning for me to continue, without revealing his eyes.

“Alphonse,” I say again, and this time, he lifts his forearm, eyes still closed, and puts the arm behind his head instead.

Adrenaline rushes through my veins, and I take a deep breath before leaning down and falling into the floor.

Flailing, I jolt awake, rolling out of the bed and hitting the floor with a shout.

“Shit,” I mutter under my breath, rubbing at my forehead. I smacked face-first into the floorboards on the way down. As much as it hurts, I’m just glad that was a nightmare, and not reality. I made some terrible decisions, to say the least.

As I climb back onto the bed, there’s a knock on the door, and I hear Al call, “Stel, you okay? I heard a big bang.”

“Just my face hitting the floor,” I quip, and the door opens.

“Ouch,” he says, offering me a sympathetic smile. “Do you need an ice pack?”

Shaking my head, I cross my legs beneath me, pushing a few stray hairs behind my ears.

He looks around for something, but doesn’t seem to find it, so he shrugs his shoulders and takes a seat on the end of the bed. After a quick glance at his watch, he loosens his tie, undoes the top button, and flops back onto the bed, blowing a lock of hair out of his eyes before sticking his tongue out at me and winking.

I blow a raspberry at him and say, “Goof,” to which he stretches his arms out and yawns. “Boy, aren’t I exciting.”

“Hey, give me a break,” he whines, “you nearly gave me a heart attack, watching that fight. It took a lot out of me to see you like that.

“Not to say it didn’t take more out of you,” he adds, turning onto his side to face me. He rests his head on one arm, and takes a deep breath before letting out a sigh. He closes his eyes, and after a few moments, visibly relaxes.

I realize I’m worrying my bottom lip enough to taste blood, so I cut it out before I give myself another scar. My stomach has started twisting itself into knots, and I’ve got an idea on my mind I can’t decide if I should act on. It might have gone terribly in my nightmare, but my subconscious has a good point about something.

I never did tell him why I decided to end things between us, and it might not have been the nicest thing I’ve ever done. Especially not if what May said to me earlier in the bathroom is true.

Al told me a saying once: _And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall set you free._ From what I’ve gathered, the fight I was in nearly killed me, and whether I can remember it or not, it taught me something. Taking this to the grave just isn’t worth it, and it certainly isn’t something he deserves. I’d rather him know and get the chance to heal than me die without telling him, making him suffer all the more.

It doesn’t make it any easier, although I know I’ll probably feel better once I get it off my chest—and in a controlled manner, where I’m not emotionally volatile and screaming it at him.

Clearing my throat, I rest a hand on his shoulder to get his attention.

“Mhm,” he grumbles, blinking his eyes to clear the drowsiness. “What’s up, Stel?”

“Alphonse,” I say, trying to keep my voice even, “I have something… I need to tell you. Should have told you it a long time ago.”

“Uh oh,” he says, snapping awake, “you never call me that unless you’re about to kiss me or yell at me.” Pushing himself up into a sitting position, he brushes through his hair with his fingers and draws one knee up onto the bed, leaning some of his weight onto one hand for support.

Rolling my eyes, some of the anxiety lifts at his comment, and I take a deep breath before continuing. Twisting the end of one braid between my fingers, I say, “I think it’s time I tell you why I… why I ended things so suddenly.”

“Stella,” he sighs, but I raise a hand to silence him.

“No,” I insist, “this is—it’s something you need to hear. Just let me say my piece and then we never have to speak about it again.”

Biting the edge of his lip, he takes a second to think about it, and nods. “Fine.”

I swallow, losing some momentum from the interjection, and don’t give myself time to second guess. Better to plunge right in, rip the band-aid off, as they say.

“Al, I—there isn’t a good way to say this, but the reason why I…” I pause, eye twitching as I fight back a tear, and take another deep breath.

_Just dive right in. You can’t turn back now._

I rub a hand over my mouth, squeeze my eyes shut, and take another deep breath. Pushing through the fear has never been easy for me, but I have to do it.

“Al, I… I broke up with you because,” I pause to sniffle, tears brimming. “I f—hh. I thought—it’s stupid now that I’m about to say it—I just… you, you should be…” I trail off, finishing the sentence with a mumble. “Yushhbwwmay.”

While I blink to clear the tears, he looks at me like I just grew a second head. He doesn’t even have to say it; I know he wants me to repeat myself from the way his mouth drops open, jaw working to try and form words that won’t come.

Taking another deep breath, I rub my hand over my forearm, giving the skin a good pinch. I squeak, “Youshouldbwwummay.”

“I should bwubwub,” he echoes.

Rolling my head in a circle, I grit my teeth and repeat it. “You.”

“I.”

“Shhhhhhhould.”

“I should.”

“Be with Mmmmm.”

“I should be with.”

“Mmmmmmm,” I hum, unable to get the rest out.

“First letter is ‘m.’”

“Eh.”

“Meh?” he echoes, brows knitting together. “I should be with meh? I should—May, I should be with May?”

Nodding my head, I bury my face in my hands.

He’s silent for a good thirty seconds. I feel like my life just ended.

Finally, he says, “That’s… well, Stella, that’s certainly a full sentence. Definitely—definitely explains a few things there, uh, but there’s… there’s a few flaws in your logic, and I can—I can write out a philosophical proof on why you’re wrong.”

“I… what?” I exclaim, laughing awkwardly. My hands fall away from my face, and when I look at him, he’s giving me this—this _look_ , his eyes are shining, and there’s a little smile on his face, and he’s just _looking at me with this stupid look_. Chuckling nervously, I ramble, “Now—now don’t look at me like that, what’s that face for, now… Al, don’t _look_ at me like that!”

He scoots closer to me, slowly, and leans forward to whisper something in my ear. I sit there, frozen, and his beard tickles my skin as he speaks.

“Stella,” he whispers, his voice breathy, “would you give me the pleasure of letting me convince you otherwise?”

A tear rolls down my cheek, and my voice hitches as I cry, “H-how are you gonna do that?”

“No no no,” he retorts, “Stella, do you trust me?”

I bite my lip to keep from sobbing, so I just nod my head.

He gets off the bed, dramatically removing his tie and vest, flinging them over his shoulders with a smirk. Sliding over to the door, he reaches into the vase resting on the bookcase and grabs the tulip by the stem, placing it between his teeth before doing a spin and holding his hand out, palm up.

The whole affair brings a watery smile to my face, and I reach a shaky arm out. He shifts forward, bringing his hand up to meet mine, and with a little pull, gets me off the bed and into his arms.

With one arm around me, he takes the tulip and tucks it into one of my braids with a wink. Sticking a hand into his pocket, he pulls out a handkerchief and dabs it at my eyes. “None of that, Stel.”

Sniffling, a whine of protest escapes me, and he pockets the hanky before wrapping his free arm around me with a devilish smile.

Chin up, he says in a mock deep voice, “Now, the ladies go wild for this one,” and he twists, knocking me off balance and taking me over his knee.

I squeal, throwing my arms around his neck, and shriek, “Alphonse Elric don’t you _dare drop me!_ ”

He licks his lips, replies, “Never,” and kisses me hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eeeverything will be explained in 28,000 words or so
> 
> also
> 
> GOTCHA!!! you know i had to do it to ya!


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